


and if your eye causes you to stumble

by thegrinningcrow



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Depression, Episode 3: Catch-a-ride, Gen, Self-Harm, This does not happen in canon don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrinningcrow/pseuds/thegrinningcrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a very long journey across the desert, and Rhys is getting close to the end of his rope when it comes to Jack and his friendly advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "[...]  
> 43 If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out.   
> 45 And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life crippled than to have two feet and be thrown into hell.   
> 47 And if your eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell,   
> 48 where 'the worms that eat them do not die, and the fire is not quenched.'  
> [...]"
> 
> Mark 9, Temptations and Trespasses (NIV)

They've been going through Pandora's wastelands for what feels like forever. For someone like Rhys, whose life has been limited to the same office buildings and the same cubicles and the same corridors for years on end, the sheer emptiness of the landscape is like a constant pressure on the back of his head. He feels like a small bug standing on the kitchen tiles, like at any point a giant foot will descend and crush him. 

Staying inside the van for so long is a mixed blessing in that sense. As long as he stays inside the vehicle, he can pretend he's in an unusually rumbly workshop, fixing Dumpy and very resolutely not looking out the windows. And yet, he'll occasionally need to get some fresh air, and he'll spend a while looking up at the stars, lazily scanning constellations with his ECHOeye and letting his mind wander.  
Those moments don't tend to last very long.

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going?"

He's not really alone, not when Jack always pops up to talk to him, arm around (or inside) his shoulder, voice lilting and teasing.

"Aw, come on, really? What is this, the playground? You trying to give me the silent treatment like some whiny snotty kid. What's next, telling the teacher that I got cooties?"

However much he's tried, not talking to Jack has not really given much in the way of results. Whatever this hologram of Handsome Jack is, it's just as stubborn and relentless as the man himself was famed to be.

"Hey, hey, Rhysie? Rhysie. Tell you what. I'll tell you what I've been hearing around the van while you were too busy with your little craft project, and in exchange--well, we'll see, but I promise it won't be much, kay?"

"Jack, I don't want to hear about it."

"Sure you do, buttercup." The blue AI spectre winks at Rhys, and then brings one translucid hand up to Rhys' temple, where his port is. He instinctively ducks away from it, not wanting a repeat of the last few times. Handsome Jack's laughter echoes in the night air. "Man, it's always so much fun to mess with you! You're like the world's skittiest deer, it's hilarious."

Rhys crosses his arms and turns away from Jack. He'll be petty all he wants, thank you very much.

"Don't _be_ like that." There's a notable thread of anger in Jack's voice now, like he's losing his patience and static creeps up on his words. "I'm trying to do you a solid here, I'm just as stuck in this situation as you are."

And just like that, all the anger is out of his voice and his nonchalance returns. "Besides, I thought you might be interested in knowing what those so called friends of yours have been saying behind your back."

Rhys does turn back to Jack at that. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, Jack monitoring his friends always leaves him deeply uneasy, just as much as knowing that the AI in his head is capable of hearing more than he lets on. Or at least of pretending that he does.

"Aaah, see? I knew you'd wanna hear about that." Jack leans back, looking pleased with himself. "I'm telling ya, kid. Can't trust anyone on this godforsaken piece of shit of a planet. Scum and backstabbers, the whole lot of them. Will sell you as soon as they get the chance."

"Just spit it out, Jack. What did you hear?" Rhys knows that backtalking a program that thinks it's the ex-CEO of Hyperion is a bad idea. Rhys has never really been known for his good ideas.

There's a flash of something dangerous in Jack's eyes, but just as soon it's gone. "Oh you know, the usual."

Silence stretches between them, Rhys refusing to give in and ask again, Jack pretending to be in deep contemplation of his holographic fingernails.

Rhys is not known for his patience either. "Well?"

There's a triumphant smirk in Jack's face when he looks at the younger man out of the corner of his eye. He leans forward, and speaks in Rhys ear, so close that the other is sure he can feel his breath ghosting over his skin. "What do you think, pumpkin?"

Rhys can feel cold sweat breaking over his skin, and the twinge in his right arm that means he's tensing it too much.

"You really think Little Miss Liar in there is gonna let you live once you get to the Vault? For chrissake, kid, she and that cute sister of hers won't hesitate to wring that pretty little neck of yours once the jackpot is in sight."

As if to accentuate his point, Jack's hand comes up around to Rhys neck, and he pretends to squeeze, even if the gesture is mostly symbolic. Rhys can feel his throat closing in regardless.

"Athena has it in for me, it's true, and you and I know that if _she_ knew that I'm currently bunking in that empty head of yours, no one would step up to save your sorry ass."

Jack's hand trails down Rhys' front, fingers hovering just far enough from his shirt that the illusion is not broken but he still feels pulled taut by the tension.

"I don't even think that that buff accountant would care all that much about it. Same for the robots, really."

Rhys takes a step back, away from Jack, who doesn't seem particularly fazed by it.

"You know it as well as I do, Rhys. You can't trust them. Not one of them."

He takes another step back. Jack still hasn't moved.

"Vaughn has already tried to betray you, and he'll do it again. You mean nothing to Fiona and Sasha and they'll sell you out to Athena at the first sign of trouble. And as for the wonder tin cans? Ha, well, programming is a fickle thing, isn't it?"

He wants to run. He wants to scream, to take Jack by his stupid shirt and hit him in the face and make him shut up and never have to hear his voice again. He does none of those things.

Jack takes a step forward.

"You can not trust them. Every moment you spend thinking you can trust them is a moment wasted, sweetheart, and they'll turn that against you."

Rhys' throat hurts. He feels like he'll vibrate out of his skin, like he'll explode, and he can't move at all. His breaths are shallow and quick and he shuts his eyes tight as Jack keeps moving towards him.

"You have to be better. You have to be faster, you have to be smarter. You have to think one step ahead, always, you can't let anyone else get the upper hand on you. Cause the second they do, they'll use that, and you. will. regret it."

Jack's voice is so loud in his ears it's deafening. It's the only thing he can hear, and not even his heart beating madly in his head is enough to drown it out.

"Kill them. Hurt them. Teach them to fear you. If they see you are weak they'll just leave you and betray you. Do not. Let them. Win."

Rhys is on his knees.

"Think it over, okay cupcake?"

And just like that, Rhys is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is incredibly self-indulgent of me, in an awful kind of way.  
> I needed to write this, so I did.
> 
> I hope the next thing I write is happy.
> 
> Please, before you go on, if you have any triggers do consider skipping ahead to the notes at the very end of this fic for additional warnings.
> 
> Thank you for your time, and I hope you have a nice day!


	2. Chapter 2

Jack never shuts up.

He's never been a particularly quiet presence in Rhys' head, but he's been steadily getting worse. Or at least, Rhys feels like it's getting worse.  
It used to be that he had at least some time to himself. A lull in the chatter for a few hours, where he could get lost in whatever repairs he could do around the van, or join Vaughn and the others in a game, or maybe some friendly conversation. These days it seems like Jack's voice is the only thing he hears.

"Ooooh, what has Miss Fancy Hat found this time? Betcha it's just junk like always, but hey! You seem to enjoy being surrounded by the stuff, so good news right? One reason to keep her around until she cuts your throat I guess."

Rhys resolutely does not look up from the table. There's a little metal cover on this broken transmitter that Sasha found that he's been trying to get unstuck for close to fifteen minutes. He just needs a little bit more time and he'll figure it out.

"Well would you look at that. Looks like she found something useful this time! Jakobs does make good stuff, I gotta admit. Really dig that good ol’ cowboy feel they have."

It's not that hard. It's just stuck. He's going to fix it, and then it'll be as good as new. He can do this.

"Good precision too. Man, I bet she could spray your brains all over the table from right where she's standing."

He just has to keep trying. If he pushes a little harder it'll come off.

"Wouldn't even have to scope it. Just lift up the barrel a bit, pull the trigger and you'd be done for, cupcake."

A little bit harder.

"Or maybe she'd hand it over to abs and calculus over there, let him finish what he--"

Rhys throws the transmitter across the van, nearly hitting Sasha. It hits the wall instead with a loud _crack_ and falls to the ground.

For a few blessed seconds, there's silence.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?!"

Fiona is immediately crowding him, faster than he thought was possible. She does have a Jakobs revolver in one hand, and at first Rhys can barely understand what she's saying.

"--and we let you stick to your ridiculous projects, whatever, but don't you _dare_ do that again, you hear me? If you need to vent some steam just, I don't know, go outside, cry about it. Don't think I won't kick your sorry ass if you pull that shit again."

She's fuming, and her grip on the pistol is strong enough that her knuckles are white. Sasha is looking at him with the calculating look she usually reserves for marks, like she's trying to measure him up. Vaughn is looking around like he has no idea what just happened, and he has a small pile of scrap metal in his arms that he's barely hanging on to. Athena has her shield in hand and she's staring him down. From the roof come the faint sounds of Loader Bot and Gortys laughing.

He can't see Jack.

"I-I uhm, I didn't? I mean, I--" Words are not happening and he's left stammering while he tries to calm down from whatever it is that just happened.

Fiona huffs and turns around. "Save it. Come talk to me when you are ready to act like an actual person, you hear me?" She leaves without another word for the front of the van, where Sasha soon joins her.

Rhys is still reeling. It feels like gears are spinning on empty inside his head, not connecting to anything, and there's this sensation, between a buzzing and a ringing in his ears he can't shake.

"You okay, bro?"

Vaughn is right at his side (when did he get there?) and he looks concerned from behind his glasses. Rhys does his best to smile at him. He hopes it doesn't look as sick as he feels.

"Yeah, just. Just been a bit on edge this past couple days, y'know? Didn't meant to--"

"You kidding me, sweetheart? Ha! If your aim was any less pathetic you'd have hit that little princess strrraight on! Kinda proud of you for that one actually, didn't know you had it in you."

Rhys closes his eyes so he won't have to look at Jack's face in his periphery and breathes deep. "Didn't mean to, uh, throw that at her. It won't happen again."

When he opens his eyes, Vaughn is giving him an uneasy smile, but it does reach his eyes. "Well, no wonder you got strung out, bro, that thing was an absolute piece of crap. Don't even know how you kept working on it for so long." His friend's smile widens, and he gets this look, like he's just thought of something brilliant. "Tell you what! Fiona was saying how the revolver she found is jammed to all hell anyways, so how about I get that for you? That way you can keep working on fixing stuff that is not completely broken beyond repair, okay? Does that-does that sound good to you?"

Rhys nods at that. Vaughn's right. He's just been working for too long trying to mend things that are too broken to fix. But he can do better. He can work this out.

"Told ya he wants the gun. You should turn it on him as soon as it's fixed, know what I mean? Just a real quick job, won't even know what hit him. Bang! And one less cockroach to worry about."

There's bile in Rhys' mouth when Vaughn turns away to talk to Fiona and Sasha. Athena is still eyeing him from where she's standing against the back wall of the van, but she hasn't said anything and she's put away her shield.

He gets up from his chair and walks to where the broken transmitter fell when he threw it.

"If you don't wanna do it, it's okay, I get that you're squeamish or something, whatever. I can take care of that for you. Think it over, okay pumpkin?"

He picks it up and turns it in his hands. The metal cover he was working on came off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings on the author notes at the very end of this work.


	3. Chapter 3

Vaughn does give him the gun. Apparently Fiona agreed that Rhys could have it so long as she kept the bullets. It doesn't take him all that long to repair it, though he does have to consult a fair number of Hyperion databases for reference because he's never actually been familiar with firearms.

"Isn't she beautiful? Granted, my guys make the better product of course, but you gotta hand it to Jakobs, they know how to make a good looking revolver."

Currently, Rhys is cleaning the barrel of the gun, like the guides said, to keep it from getting jammed again. They've stopped to the side of the road just long enough to get some more water, and he's taking the chance to take a close look without the movement of the van throwing off his pulse. Jack has been talking about the superiority of Hyperion handguns for the past half an hour or so.

"Now, as I was saying, you can still cause some real damage with this baby. Remember to hit with the handle, not with the barrel, and you can even get some use out of it later for you know, shooting stuff, if you can get the bullets out of the wonder girls' clutches."

The cylinder only has space for two bullets. Rhys cleans that too.

"Aim for the head and for the arms when you swing. You might not kill them, but it will hurt like a bitch so you'll get a chance to hit again before they can react."

There's a small inscription in the casing with the model of the gun. That had turned out to be helpful while Rhys was figuring out what was wrong with it. Most of it is faded with grime and use, but he can still make out the end of it easily.

"Hit the side of the head, as hard as you can. Use your metal arm to swing, it's kind of the only good one you have anyways, kid. God, now that's a great sound. A good loud crunchin--"

"Sup loser."

He lifts up his head from where he was staring at the word "Justice" engraved on the revolver to look at Sasha, who is handing him a dented cup with water in it.

"If you stay in here all the time hunched up like that, that metal noggin of yours is gonna overheat, you dork." She takes a look at the tools spread out around him, and gives him a lopsided smile when he takes the cup from her. "Can't believe you actually fixed that thing. Thought you Hyperion suits were only good for pushing papers and killing kittens or something."

"Oh, you know, I took breaks from the whole murdering babies thing every once in a while." He smiles back at her and takes a sip of water. She doesn't mean it when she says those kinds of things.

"She so does mean it, champ. Down here they're all convinced you are the bad guy. She _will_ leave you out here to bleed out. No question."

The water tastes coppery and wrong. Rhys looks away and pretends to pay close attention to a dirty rug on the ground next to him.

"So hey. I was thinking." If she's noticed that his head is elsewhere, she's pretending otherwise. She stands next to him, her posture relaxed. "Look, I know we've all been kind of assholes to each other, and that for some reason you're kinda nervous about this whole trip."

He's still not looking directly at her, because he can tell Jack is standing right behind her, and if he looks he's gonna have to look at Jack.

"But hey, aside from that time a few days ago when you lost your marbles--whatever _that_ was about--you've actually not been so bad to have around."

Rhys does look her in the eye at that. Her expression is friendly, and she has this teasing smile on her face, the kind that he's learned means that she's thinking of something cool and possibly dangerous.

"So I say. You can have these."

She holds out her closed hand, and when he extends his she puts two pistol cartridges in his palm.

"They should work. I think. I mean, most guns around here use whatever cartridges as long as they are more or less for the right type of firearm, but tell me if the caliber is wrong or something?"

He's stuck on the sensation of the small pieces of metal in his flesh and blood hand. He can feel how cool the metal is against his skin.

"Go out there, try them out if you want to? What am I saying you're probably gonna shoot your foot off. They're blanks, but still. Okay so, if you are gonna be using them, tell me first? That way I can be there to make sure you don't enrage some skags accidentally or something."

"Now that's some good news. You know how to use these? Blanks mean that you'll have to shoot from close quarters, but let me tell ya, you can do some real damage with these."

"Thank you." Rhys nods towards Sasha, and closes his fist around the blanks. "I mean it."

Sasha smiles again, makes him promise he'll tell her if he's going to be practicing with the blanks, and then she's gone.

"Put the muzzle right against their head. Real close, don't be afraid to leave a mark now. There will be enough bang to send pieces of their skull right through to the other side. People always forget how much damage blanks can do till their brains are all over your office floor. Trust me on this one, I know what I'm talking about, babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings on the author notes at the end of this work.


	4. Chapter 4

Rhys has two blank rounds in one hand and a working revolver in the other.

He told Fiona he was going to go stargazing for a bit when she asked. He did not speak to Sasha. Vaughn is inside the van, trying to figure out something about Gortys’ ability with math. Athena is sitting down for once, doing that thing she does where she seems to be resting but she keeps her eyes half lidded and trailed on the other people in the vehicle. She did not follow him outside.

"Hey Rhysie! Whatcha doing buddy? Gonna work on your aim?"

Jack is by his side, like he always seems to be these days.

"Yeah. Yeah, something like that." Rhys opens up the cylinder of the gun, and puts the first blank in there.

"You do remember that you only got two of those rounds, right? If you wanna make them count you shouldn't waste them in practice. Hehe, thought of a good joke there, but you can probably figure it out yourself."

"Sure." Rhys puts the second blank in the cylinder, closes it, and checks that it's spinning correctly. The night sky above them seems to go on forever and yet Rhys can feel the stars looking down on him like a million scrutinizing eyes.

"Come on, Rhys." Jack walks around him, until he is directly in his way. "You know I just want what's best for you, right?"

Jack's face is exactly like it was in all the posters that Rhys kept in his office. His stance is surefooted, his hair looks great, his expression is confident and even through the fuzziness of the hologram it seems like his eyes shine with determination. His voice rings in Rhys' ears, clearer than any recording he ever owned.

"Yeah. I know."

Rhys takes the gun in his left hand and puts the muzzle against the bottom of his chin.

"Hey. _Hey_. What the _fuck are y_ \--"

Rhys puts pressure on the trigger.

His right arm comes up and punches him in the face. He falls to the ground, revolver still firmly in his left hand.

" _What are you doing._ " Jack's voice is incredibly loud, distorted with fury and static. His right hand is grabbing him by the throat and keeping him pinned where he is.

Rhys brings the gun up towards the left side of his head, right by his ear, muzzle pointed upwards. He pulls the trigger all the way.

His head feels like cotton and jell-o, fuzzy and floating. There's an incredibly high pitched ringing to his left. Aside from that, he can't hear anything.

His right hand lets go of his throat just a fraction.

He takes the gun to the right side of his head, points away from it and fires the second blank.

It hurts. The ringing is so loud now it hurts. But he can't hear anything else. He lets go of the empty revolver. He closes his eyes and lies back on the packed desert dust and lets the noise engulf him.

And then someone is grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

When he can focus his sight again, through the pain, the ringing, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, Fiona's face is inches away from his. She seems incredibly upset, and Rhys doesn't think he's ever seen her this furious. She keeps shaking him and lifting her fist like she wants to punch him.

Her lips move, but he can't hear what she's saying.

When he scrambles back a bit, away from her, he can see Vaughn standing just a few feet away, and he seems so so lost. He's looking at Rhys like his whole world has shattered. His mouth makes shapes but Rhys can't make out a sound.

Sasha is next to him, and she has her hands over her mouth, and she's looking at the gun like she can't tear her eyes away from it.

Athena is walking in great resolute strides towards him, murder in her eyes, and it looks like she's yelling something.

" _What was that about_?!". That is not Athena's voice.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Rhys, what did you think you were _doing_? That was beyond stupid, even for you."

Rhys cannot look. He can't. He can't do this anymore.

"What kind of motherfucking idiot does that? Cocksucking _hell_ I thought we were dead for sure."

He's in the middle of the desert. The ringing is going strong in his ears. His heartbeat is beating into his skull. And he can still hear Jack.

He can't hear himself scream, but he does it anyways.

It doesn't help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned from the best.
> 
> I have an idea for a less awful coda, but it seems presumptuous to assume anyone is going to read this, let alone want more.
> 
> Special thanks to [Delcat](http://www.delcat.tumblr.com/) for beta-testing this thing.
> 
>  **Warnings:**  
>  depression  
> self-harm  
> self-inflicted deafness  
> guns  
> Handsome Jack speaking
> 
>  
> 
> [You can find me on tumblr.](http://www.thegrinningcrow.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is incredibly self-indulgent of me, in an awful kind of way.  
> I needed to write this, so I did.
> 
> I hope the next thing I write is happy.
> 
> Please, before you go on, if you have any triggers do consider skipping ahead to the notes at the very end of this fic for additional warnings.
> 
> Thank you for your time, and I hope you have a nice day!


End file.
